


And, you love me

by ToxicPineapple



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Birthday, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Character Growth, Character Study (ish), Conversations, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Nagito Komaeda Is No Longer A Bastard.jpg, Post-Canon, introspective, just the one, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: Over the crashing of the waves on the shore, Hajime hears footsteps when they approach, clack-clack-clacking on the pavement, and by the gait of the person coming he can tell that it’s Nagito. Years ago he wouldn’t have been able to tell; too wrapped up in his own head and the things he could have had (the things he lost) to care about the world around him, but he stopped thinking of the other fourteen people on this island as prison mates sometime last year and settled into thinking of them, wholly and without interruption, as family. Nagito is no exception. In a lot of ways he kind of fits the bill better than all the rest.At any rate he knows how to recognise the guy’s step.---Early in the morning on his twenty seventh birthday, Hajime contemplates the way that things used to be, and the way they are now.(Also, Nagito gives him a birthday present.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 14
Kudos: 122





	And, you love me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lime_frog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lime_frog/gifts).



> i did this for the secret santa on the FWC discord server!!! i'm really grateful for that server, everyone is so Very very kind, and i really appreciate the opportunities i've gotten to participate in collaborations and i hope more arise in the future!!! lime u are a very kind person, thank u for giving me permission to post this and i had so much fun writing this :D

Hajime hasn’t truly celebrated his birthday in what’s felt like ages.

All the remnants know when it is, naturally. Since there are only fifteen of them it isn’t exactly difficult to have all the birthdays committed to memory (even Akane does well at that and her memory has been known to be particularly scattered) but Hajime’s especially should be pretty simple considering that it’s on the first day of the year. He’s always wondered if that was really his birthday, or if his parents were just embellishing, but… there’d be no particularly good reason to lie. At any rate, he’s never seen a birth certificate, so there’d be no way to ascertain one way or the other.

He doesn’t mind. His birthday isn’t much of a big deal. He still keeps track of his age- an arbitrary practice but it’s a constant in a world where there aren’t many- but he never feels right making a huge deal out of it. After everything that’s happened, making a big deal out of anything has just felt awkward and disjointed. Completely out of place in a world where everything is already scattered in a mess at his feet.

Since waking up from the simulation and choosing to remain on Jabberwock Island, what little festivity there has been on his past birthdays has been rather anticlimactic. On occasion Teruteru has made him a cake, and one time Ibuki wrote him a weird song to celebrate, but aside from that it’s just been another day among many. It isn’t that his birthday is ever outstandingly horrible. It’s just normal. Just another day.

This year- his twenty seventh- Hajime wakes up early, before everyone else. Winter on Jabberwock Island is a lot colder than he thought it would be back when he was still in the simulation with everyone else. In the Neo-World Program it felt like everything was blurred. Just one sunny day to the next. The tropical weather was almost monotonous in its lack of variety. Even now he still doesn’t get very excited crawling out of bed and seeing a crystal clear blue sky. It’s pretty much the norm considering their location. But surprisingly, during the cooler months, the island does just that; get cooler.

It doesn’t snow. (That would be asking way too much, honestly.) Hajime wasn’t a huge snow person back before the tragedy, so really it’s fine, but he’d be lying if he said that he doesn’t miss the cold, fluffy, white stuff just a little bit. All that really happens is that thick grey clouds roll in from the horizon, the air gets charged with cold intense enough to turn the tips of everyone’s ears a bright pink, and then it rains down on them for weeks on end.

It’s kind of Hajime’s favourite weather, actually, the rain. He doesn’t like being out in it, but he likes sitting inside his cottage, wrapped in blankets and cupping a mug of hot cocoa in his hands, listening to the  _ patter-patter-patter  _ of the raindrops on the roof and the windows. He likes watching the rain, too, and tracking droplets with his eyes and trying to figure out which one will reach the bottom of the glass before all the rest. It’s slow and repetitive and whenever it storms like that it never fails to put Hajime to sleep. Not a bad thing.

Sometimes the clouds roll in and it doesn’t rain for a while, leaving everything with a touch of biting cold but usually just an oppressive mugginess that none of them can stand. They all get along pretty well considering the circumstances, but it’s hard not to get a  _ little  _ bit irritable when they’re all waiting for the clouds to break open and for rain to finally pour down on him. It’s probably the reason why Hiyoko and Fuyuhiko finally snapped and got into an argument about a year ago. But that was definitely a long time coming, Hajime thought, so maybe the mugginess was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Today, it isn’t raining. It isn’t even cloudy, though it’s pretty cold. Extremely early winter tends to feel that way, especially right before the sun rises. Hajime likes this time of day more than he likes any other. Mostly because of the colours the sparse clouds will turn, the vivid oranges and reds and pinks, but also just for the dewy quiet. He likes hearing a gentle wind brushing through the leaves of the trees, rather than the obnoxious voices of his friends, and getting up early is the best way to get that kind of solitude. Other people are awake by now, obviously; Peko is awake on one of the other islands, probably training (though she doesn’t have much of a need to anymore) and Teruteru is without a doubt preparing food for everybody in the restaurant, but Hajime heads to the Central Island and sits down in the park, tucking his knees into his chest and watching the sunrise. It’s not a bad way to spend his birthday.

The thing with silences is that they always feel to Hajime like a lit fuse. There’s a sort of growing anticipation in his stomach the longer he enjoys them for. No silence is going to last forever. Someone is always bound to break it eventually. It should make him feel anxious, in the mornings like this one. Jumpy and on edge, waiting for that thing that’s going to shatter the tranquility of the morning and interrupt the calm feeling that has settled over his person.

But it doesn’t. He’s learned to feel alright with these kinds of moments, learned to sit still and cherish than constantly be checking for the end to come. If he lives like that, then every silence will become much much shorter, and he’ll stop liking them so much. He’ll begin to associate them with a bone-deep feeling of anxiety.

After the tragedy, after Izuru Kamukura, after Chiaki and the Neo-World Program and the Future Foundation and everything, everyone waking up, turning twenty six… the last thing that Hajime needs, in his opinion, is more anxiety.

Over the crashing of the waves on the shore, Hajime hears footsteps when they approach, clack-clack-clacking on the pavement, and by the gait of the person coming he can tell that it’s Nagito. Years ago he wouldn’t have been able to tell; too wrapped up in his own head and the things he could have had (the things he lost) to care about the world around him, but he stopped thinking of the other fourteen people on this island as prison mates sometime last year and settled into thinking of them, wholly and without interruption, as family. Nagito is no exception. In a lot of ways he kind of fits the bill better than all the rest.

At any rate he knows how to recognise the guy’s step.

Hajime lifts a hand, stretching his fingers out backwards, as though he’s reaching out towards the sky, and feels cold metal curling around his knuckles. A smile touches his face and he adjusts his position, shifting to make room for Nagito as the other man takes his seat in front of the statue. Their fingers remain intertwined, and it looks like he wants to, but Nagito doesn’t say anything yet.

So, this silence is going to be one that Hajime gets to break himself. He ponders that thought, turns it over and over in his head until the edges soften and the details blur, and he loses his fascination with the morning, drinking in the sight of his partner instead.

Nagito is still so very skinny, tired and careworn from all those years of stress and self-hatred and fear. He looks well rested, though, and his pale skin has a glow to it that Hajime is certain isn’t caused by the dawn. White hair is drawn out of his face, tied into a low ponytail, but a few strands have escaped in the way that they always do whenever he cuts it. Nagito looks cold. (He’s never been all that good at resisting the lower temperatures.) If Hajime had a jacket, he’d offer it, but as things are he angles himself towards the other man and scoots a bit closer, hoping to loan a bit of his body head because he’s had a long time for the cold to kick in and it hasn’t yet. He’s still very comfortable.

“Morning,” Hajime finally breaks the silence, hears the sluggish thickness of his voice and realises that he hasn’t entirely woken up yet. Nagito smiles and returns the sentiment, again with that look of wanting to say something else, but he keeps his mouth shut. Hajime knows, though, what his partner wants to say, and huffs out a sigh. “I know, it’s my birthday,” he smiles, to show that he’s not as irritated as his tone would suggest, but Nagito has long since left behind that fragility that earlier possessed him that would’ve made him take even the slightest of undertones to heart.

Now, the white-haired man only nods, a satisfied smirk curling at his lips, and Hajime allows a quick shoot of air from his nose to convey his amusement. “Happy new year,” Nagito’s small smirk grows into a grin when Hajime rolls his eyes, head throwing to the side and clear grey eyes glittering. “It’s a great morning.”

“You’re freezing to death,” returns Hajime, a tad poutily, and squeezes Nagito’s robot hand to emphasise his point. The metal has long since chilled through, though it’s begun lynching Hajime’s heat by now, leaving a lingering warmth everywhere his fingers have touched. “So I don’t really want to hear that.”

“I’m actually, doing great,” Nagito lies through his teeth. “But you’re invited to care for me if you want.”

“Ohhhh, yeah, okay,” Hajime snorts, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

  
“And,” Nagito stops, abruptly, his tongue teasing his upper teeth as he draws out his rebuttal. “You love me,” he speaks ever, ever so slowly, as though taste-testing the words, and despite the fact that Hajime’s said it before, the words still feel like butter, thick and slow-churned, but light and pleasant and wonderful on his tongue; a delightful smell in the air. His cheeks warm only a little bit this time as he purses his lips, giving Nagito what he hopes is his most moody look. It’s a big deal, they both know it, for Nagito to be saying such things with the air of a person who believes it.

It hasn’t always been this way.

“Anyway, I know you’re not that big on getting gifts, but I made you something.” Nagito releases his head and reaches into his jacket, feeling around one of the inside pocket before he stops and looks at Hajime. “It’s not, uh, anything too special,” he says as much slowly and carefully, as though wary of his partner calling him out on self deprecating, but this isn’t anything beyond what any normal person would use to preface the giving of a birthday present, so Hajime doesn’t say anything, and Nagito continues. “But I thought you might like it anyway.”

When Hajime tilts his head to the side, Nagito pulls his hand out and opens it, revealing a small charm bracelet seated in the palm of his hand. At least, Hajime assumes that it’s a charm bracelet; there’s only one charm on there right now.

“Kazuichi helped me make it,” Nagito explains softly. He’s speaking slower than he would if he was all that nervous, which is reassuring. Hajime doesn’t want his reaction to be a source of anxiety for any reason. “I was going to make something else, but my mind kept drifting to this. You misplaced her pin a while back, didn’t you?”

Nodding, Hajime reaches out and takes the bracelet. The charm is from galaga, though both he and Nagito know that that’s not the association that anyone on this island has with it. It’s cool, probably because Nagito’s hands are cold right now, and when he runs his hand over the charm it’s textured but smooth. No bumps. He can’t help the smile that appears on his face, though it comes with a twinge of sadness too. All these years have passed and he still can’t think about it without his eyes burning.

“I was worried that I’d be overstepping,” admits Nagito. “But you only turn twenty seven once, right?”

“Thank you,” Hajime finds his voice again and is unsurprised to hear that it sounds hoarse. The charm is so light that it might not even be there, and his hands shake a bit as he undoes the clasp, pulling the bracelet around his wrist. “You really made this?” He looks up, narrows heterochromatic eyes at his partner. “You said it’s nothing special.”

“I guess I just got used to it.” Nagito allows with a chuckle. “Do you like it?”

“ _ Do you like it? _ ” Hajime mocks in a high pitched voice. “You went to the trouble of remaking, by hand, a charm that looks almost exactly like the charm of someone I really cared about that I lost a while ago, of course I like it- how did Kazuichi make this? He’s a mechanic.”

“Skills grow over time.” Nagito returns. “That’s something that you taught me, isn’t it?”

And then they’re quiet, because Hajime still hasn’t really processed the fact that it’s his birthday, and a new year, and because Nagito’s smile is happier than it is sad for once, and the oppressive feeling of mournfulness in his chest is still  _ there,  _ as it’s always been there, but mostly he just feels light and- and alright, he feels alright, truthfully. It’s taken so long to say that with one hundred percent honesty; it used to be the pep talk he gave himself every morning in an attempt at normalcy. Now it’s just a fact. Not something to reach for, but the default.

They’re alright.

“Can I kiss you?” Hajime asks. It’s something that, in the past, Nagito has told him that he doesn’t have to ask to do (something he’s done without asking before, when everything has been loud smiles and bright laughs) but this feels like one of those moments where he should. Just tender enough that a sudden kiss would somehow take away from the importance of it.

Nagito nods, though. “Of course you can.”

Underneath Hajime’s hand, Nagito’s cheek is cold, but it’s forgotten in a moment, because the feeling of their lips pressed together is anything but.

**Author's Note:**

> hmm :) the flood of fanfics begins
> 
> i'm glad i got the chance to write these two in this kind of setting before the year ended. i did something similar as a request for sun (hi sun) but it was from komaeda's pov and really that's,,, the only notable difference.
> 
> AT ANY RATE happy christmas eve :D i hope y'all are doing great
> 
> F in the chat for chiaki she deserved to live


End file.
